


a piece of a dream

by creativefiend19



Series: The Cabeswater Cafe [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativefiend19/pseuds/creativefiend19
Summary: Every morning, Ronan Lynch comes into Cabeswater Cafe after his punishing run, looking breathless and flushed and intimidatingly gorgeous.Adam can't stand him.Adam can't stop thinking about him.Too bad Adam can't have him.orThe Pynch coffee shop AU I've always wanted to write, featuring a thirsty, pining Adam.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: The Cabeswater Cafe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019196
Comments: 80
Kudos: 324





	a piece of a dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I dealt with Election Week jitters. 
> 
> A shout out to DubiousSparrow's lovely [River Town](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775125) series for inspiring my fictional Stockbridge, MA. The real one is much farther away from Harvard.

The rays of the setting sun outlined Adam Parrish, as he stood behind the counter of an almost empty café. 

Well, it was empty of customers. But it was filled with the tinkling of windchimes, rainbows of light flashing off hanging crystals, hothouse ferns and mismatched chairs. All these things and more decorated the Cabeswater Café (with The Three Sisters vintage shop attached). 

The café also contained Henry Cheng. Adam was working past the usual closing time because he was teaching Cabeswater’s newest employee how to work the espresso machine. 

"So, there’s a checklist taped up here of things you have to do after every shot, during a lull in orders and then at the end of your shift. Any questions about this bit?"

"Your instructions were perfect, Adam man,” Henry gave him a two finger salute. “I’m going to have to work on my art, though, huh?"

"Yeah, it does take practice. Do you want to try for a heart again?"

"Sure thing!" Henry got to work on the latte, as Adam watched him closely. Henry seemed whip-smart and happy to make smiling conversation, which was half the job, really. But this was his first time as a barista, so he would need more guidance than most.

"So, you’re in charge?” Henry was working the steamer, and doing a decent job of keeping the pressure low.

“Yeah, kind of. Technically, Blue’s in charge of stuff - especially when I’m at school. But I do all the ordering and rosters, and help Calla with the accounts. Tap the milk jug a couple of times to pop the bigger bubbles,” Adam said, as an aside. 

He’d sure landed on his feet when he landed this job, he thought. This small town and its community was now home to him in a way that his actual hometown had never been. Stockbridge, MA was close enough to the city that it was convenient for Adam to attend classes at Harvard - though, as a senior, a lot of his study was on his own time.

The quaint café, with its relaxing energy and mismatched china, was more popular with the locals. And the attached whimsical vintage store was more popular with tourists and antiquing hipsters.

The Three Sisters store sold pretty much everything the Fox Way ladies had dumped into their garage when they had amalgamated several households in one - from Maura’s crystal suncatchers to Calla’s vintage surf boards, from vinyl records of Jimi’s jazz to Persephone’s geodes. Not to mention a literal truckload of books. 

“And you live upstairs with Blue?” Henry asked, as he poured the steamed milk into the espresso.

“Yeah, we're roommates.”

He and Blue had a rather disastrous whirlwind romance as soon as they met, after which they'd decided they got along much better when they were _not_ dating. Adam was happy to both split the rent and get to live with his best friend. 

It had all worked out perfectly. 

Henry handed him a latte with a wobbly white circle on it. He’d used the latte pen to draw a smiley.

Adam grinned. “Resourceful.”

Henry grinned back, "Don’t worry. I'll make you a perfect heart soon."

Adam sipped the decaf latte. It was not bad at all, for a first day.

Henry was going to fit in just fine.

*

Adam’s uniform of white tee and blue jeans was protected by the café's signature denim aprons made from repurposed Levis - Persephone’s genius idea. 

He tied the strings tight and felt the rolled up sleeves of his tee stretch around his biceps. He wasn't painfully skinny any more, after being able to eat free leftovers of healthy organic food, which was a real perk of the job. 

For Adam, every bit of money saved went towards paying for law school next year, though he was sure he'd get some kind of aid. He was an admittedly-strange combination of worst case scenario planner without a Plan B. He knew what he wanted. And went for it.

The shop door tinkled and Ronan Lynch came in. 

Well, case in point. 

The first time Adam had seen Ronan standing near the counter, he’d been talking on the phone to someone named Dick, sounding clipped and rude and sarcastic. 

Adam had openly stared while he was preoccupied. He hadn't known where to look, at first. This man's arms and eyes and mouth and tattoo were all equally fascinating. 

He was the kind of beautiful that caught your breath, and then hurt it.

The man immediately took another call and Adam heard him cuss out someone named Declan this time - his language vitriolic enough to melt the skin off someone’s face. 

Ronan seemed like an angry, arrogant asshole. 

But the first thing that flashed through Adam's heated mind was the idea of Ronan cursing for a very different reason. Preferably around the name ‘Adam’.

When the man came up to the counter, he ordered a cappuccino and a slice of pie.

Which pie, Adam had asked. 

“Surprise me,” Mr Hot and Grumpy had said, in his deep, lazy voice with an edge to it. The hairs on the nape of Adam’s neck responded to the suggestive bass of it.

Adam wanted to go to sleep every night hearing that voice speaking sleepily into his good ear. 

He hadn’t been able to meet the man’s eye after that. For a few days.

And that’s how it had begun for Adam. 

One day, his world was mundane and predictable. The next day, Mr Hot and Grumpy had become a regular with a running tab, hijacking Adam’s sanity.

His name, Adam soon found out, was Ronan Lynch. 

He would come in everyday after his punishing early morning run, flushed and breathless, giving Adam’s fevered brain all kinds of calamitous ideas. 

Ronan was usually in a black-on-black uniform of expensive ripped jeans and tanks - which conveniently showed off his toned, defined arms. 

But when he ran he wore shorts - that hugged his muscular thighs. His damp compression muscle tee clung to all the lines and valleys of his fit torso in a thoroughly distracting way. 

To make matters worse, Ronan would take his order outside and proceed to torture Adam by doing his cool-down stretches at the sidewalk tables. Through the huge, clear windows of the café, Adam could clearly see Ronan bending and twisting, as effortlessly sensual as a cat. 

He was gorgeous and confident and intimidating and, from the looks of his classic BMW, well-off too. 

Adam couldn’t stand him.

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

It was driving him crazy. 

He forced himself to put on his best customer-facing smile for the middle-aged couple in front of him. 

“Morning. What can I get you folks?” 

*

Persephone was delivering her homemade goodies and the fresh supplies. She was an excellent baker and her pies were famous for miles around. 

Everything at Cabeswater was made daily, with locally-sourced organic produce, and all the leftovers were donated to the church's halfway house. Adam was secretly proud to be part of such an ethical enterprise. 

The Fox Way ladies were good people. Adam had mostly only known the other kind, so he was very lucky to have found them. 

He was hauling the last of the vegetables and fruits into the café, in crates labelled The Barns Organic Cooperative. The farmer owned and run co-op was their main supplier.

Ronan ended his morning run at the door just as Persephone was leaving. 

He eyed the crates stacked in Adam’s arms and then, unexpectedly, gave Persephone a kiss on her cheek.

“Ronan. I'm glad you're back." 

“Me too, Seph,” Ronan said, in his deep voice. 

“You know Adam, of course.”

The two men nodded silently at each other, and Adam went inside.

He placed Ronan’s usual double shot cappuccino and muesli pot on the café table outside, and caught the last bit of the conversation as he gave Persephone back her car keys.

“We’re going to Vermont for the weekend,” Ronan was saying, nodding a thanks at Adam.

“Good. That'll give you some quality time together,” Persephone said, patting him on the arm, as Ronan gave her a kiss goodbye.

Adam was intensely curious who they were talking about. He wondered whom he could ask. Besides Persephone, that was. She wasn’t very good at answering direct, factual questions. Which was why she’d chosen Adam to run things, according to her. 

“I’ll see you at the vegetable patch, Adam,” she said to him. He had discovered an interest in and talent for gardening, since meeting her. He smiled and waved as she drove off in her dinky Ford. 

He turned to Ronan, whose blue eyes were dazzling in the morning light.

“How do you know Persephone?” Adam asked, more direct and factual than he had planned to be. 

He’d apparently lost all his Southern charm around Ronan - just when he needed it the most. Though, to be fair, Ronan didn’t seem like someone who’d respond well to being charmed. A brawl seemed more his speed of foreplay than compliments. 

“I grew up around here, and she knows - knew - my mom.”

“I'm sorry,” Adam was at a loss how to continue. He didn't want Ronan to feel interrogated, but he was shamelessly curious.

“What do you do?” _Real original, Parrish._

“I'm a farmer.”

“Oh.” Whatever answer Adam had been expecting, it wasn't this. 

Ronan groaned with dark satisfaction as he bent over and stretched out a hamstring. 

An unnecessarily obscene sound, Adam thought, putting some distance between himself and temptation.

( _Holy fuck_ was Ronan flexible.)

He dragged his mind away from pornographic thoughts, and instead fixated on the curls of the tattoo that peeked out of the collar of the muscle tee.

"How have I not seen you around before?"

"I was working with various farms across the country. Learning some stuff. Exchanging ideas."

“Were you - always a farmer?” Adam thought that maybe Ronan had been a … a musician, or artist, or something more edgy, before getting into the family business. Maybe a model.

“Never wanted to be anything else,” Ronan said, from around the vicinity of his knee.

There was an infinite silence that Ronan didn’t seem inclined to fill. Finally Adam said, “Okay, enjoy your breakfast,” and went inside. 

He could chat easily with customers for hours, without the slightest strain. But for some reason he got stiff and awkward around Ronan Goddamned Lynch.

Great. Just fucking great. 

*

Adam had pitched in to help out during a particularly busy lunch shift. They had an unusually long queue at the counter because a busload of tourists had descended on them like locusts. Blue had been run off her feet in the store, while Noah and Adam had expertly churned out a complicated variety of coffees. They were taking a late well-earned lunch break, while Henry manned the fort. 

“So, Adam, I saw you trying to chat up Mr Hot and Grumpy yesterday,” Noah said, with a mischievous grin.

It'd been a while since Adam had hung out with Noah. He’d forgotten how annoyingly perceptive he could be. And he seemed to have gotten Blue to snitch about Adam’s initial name for Ronan.

Adam glared at Blue. She just shrugged, unapologetic, and continued eating her blueberry yogurt.

“Shut up, Noah,” Adam rolled his eyes at him, but couldn’t help flushing a bit. 

Blue piped up, betraying him yet again, “Yeah, I saw it too. I know up close what it looks like when Adam is trying to hit on someone, but this was different.”

“How?” Adam couldn’t help himself. 

“You’re usually pretty direct, Lover Boy,” Blue made kissy noises at him, and he pushed her face away, “But I have to admit, with Mr Hot and Grumpy, you seem to be playing it very cool.”

“Yeah. If you’re too subtle it’s going to backfire, dude,” Noah said, teasing and serious at the same time, “You want to hit that, you’re going to have to work the charm a bit more.”

“Real classy, Noah.”

“Have you stalked him yet?”

“Stalked him?” 

“On social media, you luddite. Always check out your crush’s Insta, so you can stare longingly at their pictures until you get the real thing. Ronan Lynch, right?” 

Noah had taken out his phone and was swiping away as he spoke. 

Adam had an Instagram account mainly because Noah had made him one, but he mostly posted about Cabeswater and school - hardly anything personal. 

“Okay, he has an Instagram. Ooooh, his profile pic has him topless!” Noah whistled expressively.

“What?” Adam stopped pretending to be chill, and grabbed the phone from Noah. 

Sure enough, Ronan was wearing aviators and shorts and ... nothing else, sunlit beach and ocean in the background. He looked better than fantastic. 

The screen went black. 

“Noah, your dumb phone locked me out,” Adam handed it back after poking at it in frustration. 

“It’s not a dumb phone, Adam. It's a very _smart_ phone. You need to get one with better security, dude.”

“The only person I need security from is you.” Noah had messed around with Adam’s old-fashioned phone more than once, blatantly hacking the password to play music and games and videos. From anyone else, it would've been annoying.

“If you want your phone to be safe from me, you should get a better one. With a fingerprint or face scanner. Or _face_ the consequences.” Noah wriggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck off. And give that back to me,” Adam grabbed the phone. He had no dignity left, apparently.

He didn’t stare at Ronan’s profile picture again, though he wanted to, because Blue and Noah had moved to stand on either side of him to look at the screen.

Ronan ‘Raven at Heart’ Lynch’s IG was full of gorgeous pictures of fields and wildlife and cars. There was a childhood photo with his two brothers, presumably, and several photos of a beautiful farmhouse. It looked … idyllic. 

Adam was careful not to like anything or click on any of Ronan’s Stories, though he was tempted. He really wanted to see what (or who) a Chainsaw was. 

Later, in the privacy of his bedroom, Adam reopened Ronan’s picture on his laptop. He looked at the familiar frown and the hints of an intricate black tattoo. 

His eyes traced the curves of Ronan’s bare biceps and pecs. He wished he could trace them with his fingers - and then his mouth.

He groaned with longing. 

Adam was going to have to … well, make a move. Ask Ronan out. Do _something_. Soon. Maybe grab him and kiss him while handing him his order after his morning run (Adam had no problems with a sweaty, musky Ronan). 

At the thought of his tongue in Ronan’s mouth, a frisson of pure arousal zinged up Adam’s spine, 

He fell back onto his pillow, and covered his face with his hands. He was so, so fucked.

*

“You should eat something. All that coffee on an empty stomach can't be good for you,” Adam put down a slice of quiche Lorraine and smiled, trying for playful. Knowing him, it probably ended up looking pained.

Ronan was deeply focused on something, table littered with Cabeswater’s vintage mismatched mugs. With his headphones on, he probably didn't even hear what Adam said.

What he did do was look up and smile at Adam, shockingly sweet. Eyes alight with warmth.

Adam froze in place, felled by that single smile. 

A smile that he had not known Ronan could possess, let alone bestow.

This was how Ronan might look at someone he loved, Adam realised. 

Adam’s entire being suddenly _craved_ , an immediate and absolute _need_ that he hadn’t known existed a moment ago. To have someone look at him the way Ronan just had. 

For _Ronan_ to look at him that way. 

Over breakfast.

After a night of loving.

For Ronan to be spread out under him, so Adam could take him apart and find out what other expressions and sounds he could coax out of him. Would Ronan be loud? He seemed like he might be. They would make his rickety bed creak joyfully. And Blue would wear earplugs and she'd complain the next day. But they wouldn't care because they were so in love ...

All this flashed through Adam’s mind instantaneously, one image crowding out the next.

In the time it took him to trip over the thought of love, Ronan’s face had shuttered. It now held no expression at all.

The colours from the flashing laptop screen turned his light eyes psychedelic and hypnotic. 

Adam stood there like an idiot frozen in headlights, unable to move. 

“What’s this?” Ronan was asking, raising an eyebrow. He’d taken off his silkily expensive headphones.

“Um. I figured you might be hungry. It’s - uh -” Adam had forgotten his next point, "… on the house,” he finished lamely, as Ronan’s eyebrow rose intimidatingly higher.

Without waiting for a reply, Adam spun around and walked away, face flaming and pulse pounding. It didn’t help that he could feel Ronan’s laser gaze focused between his shoulder blades, burning a hole to his heart and seeing right through him.

Lying on his shitty mattress later that night, Adam felt like he was losing his ever loving mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ronan’s face smiling warmly up at him. 

It had completely changed how he saw Ronan.

He was no longer just Hot Grumpy Guy. He was Hot Grumpy Guy who probably had an amazing heart, if that amazing smile was anything to go by. 

Christ. How sappy could he get?

Adam could handle having a crush on Ronan. He could deal with navigating physical attraction. 

But he was afraid, he was very much afraid, that he had gone and totally _fallen_ for Ronan Lynch.

He screamed into his pillow, hoping Blue wouldn’t hear.

*

Adam had just finished handing over the last order of the day, which happened to be Ronan's. He was messaging someone, his parcel packed and waiting on the counter, as Adam passed him to turn the shop sign from Open to Closed.

He came back and started cleaning out the parts of the espresso machine that were full of greasy buildup, a job he'd been putting off for far too long.

Of course, just as Adam buried his hands in rainbow-slicked soapy water, his phone started buzzing and moving around the counter like an annoying insect. 

Adam looked to see who was calling and - _Jesus Christ_ \- the screen showed Blue and him kissing passionately last Valentine’s Day. Blue’s cousin Orla had forced them to pose for the picture. He held a bunch of red heart balloons that Blue had bought him and she was holding a bunch of red roses - that had cost him a goddamn bomb. The phone was playing the chorus of a cheesy love song as custom ringtone.

The caller ID claimed it was Darlin Baby Girl.

“Fucking Noah,” Adam muttered to himself. He was such a menace.

Adam made a mental note to change his password - again. And delete the photos of Blue and him taken during the hot second they dated.

In suds up to his wrists, he gestured to Ronan apologetically, “Please?”

Ronan gingerly swiped on the photo of Blue and him with thinly veiled disgust, as if he wanted to minimize contact with the screen. 

A tinny sound of talking wafted up. 

“Hang on, Blue.” 

Adam pressed the speaker icon with his elbow, and Blue’s voice bloomed: “What d'you want for dinner?”

“We could get some Mexican. We have that free coupon for store pickup from that new place.”

“You genius. This is why I love you. Black bean tacos?”

“Yup. And quesadillas for me. With nachos.”

“On it. See you at home.” 

“Yeah, bye.”

Adam looked up as the call disconnected, mouth open to apologise to Ronan. 

And stopped. 

Ronan’s face was - bleak. Desolate. 

Then, a second later, the look was wiped clean, as if it had never been. 

Adam blinked, wondering if he had imagined it. 

Ronan turned around without a word and walked out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the chimes jangled in alarm and the glass panes rattled.

He had left his order untouched.

Adam stood there in the empty café, wearing soap suds like a pair of dripping gloves, not sure what had just happened. 

*

"You want something else to eat?" Adam signed to his Little Brother, as they got ready to have their bi-weekly study session.

"Always," Biz, signed back, his white teeth dazzling against his dark skin. They both knew he was a bottomless pit. 

Adam smiled at him as he put down another glass of iced tea and a sandwich. The café gave him an allowance for some free drinks and snacks every month, and he used almost all of it on Biz. He remembered being seventeen and hungry all the time - and staying hungry, because he couldn’t afford enough food. 

Bizimana was smart and poor and hardworking, with aspirations of getting into a good university. 

Adam knew all about all those things. 

Biz had been eleven when a roadside bomb had deafened him in his war-torn home country. 

Adam also knew about losing your hearing in an act of violence. 

The Fox Way ladies let him tutor Biz twice a week during his closing shift, and Adam was incredibly grateful.

He looked up from the textbook and found that, while trying to explain the intricacies of calculus and L'Hôpital's Rule in ASL, he’d not noticed Ronan Lynch standing at the counter - looking at Adam with an odd expression on his face. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Adam said, apologetically, though his heart was beating fast. 

He had decided to ask Ronan out, and now seemed like as good a time as any, as they were almost alone. 

Ronan had pre-ordered a whole boysenberry pie from Persephone earlier and Adam began to pack it for him. 

"Have you been to the farmers' market in Pillsbury?" he asked Ronan, putting his plan into action.

"Yeah, the Barns has a stall there."

"The Barns?" Adam asked, surprised.

"Yes. The Barns. My farm."

"Wait. The Barns Co-op is yours?" Adam had not been expecting this. He’d been dealing with the Barns for more than a year. But then, Ronan had been away until recently. 

"Well, technically a cooperative is everybody's, but yeah, I started it."

"But it's been around for years."

"I incorporated it when I turned 18, when I inherited the property. I’ve been slowly turning the farm organic since I was 16."

Adam stared at him. 

Ronan had started The Barns Co-op when he was 18? And had begun organic farming at 16? 

Adam was badly impressed.

“Oh. That’s - cool.” _That’s cool?_ Real smooth, Parrish.

Ronan just looked at him.

Adam took a deep breath and took the plunge, stumbling over his words slightly, "Do you want to - I mean, I wanted to check out the farmer’s market. Maybe you could show me around while I'm there? We could grab a drink or something."

He tried to not breathe too hard at the end of it, though blood was rushing through his heart. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never been the kind to be nervous about asking anyone out - not since middle school, anyway. 

But a lot was riding on this. 

He’d never wanted anyone to say yes as badly as he did Ronan. 

He’d never wanted anyone as badly as he did Ronan, period. 

As Adam handed him his parcel, he hoped Ronan wouldn’t notice that his hand was shaking very slightly. 

Ronan took his to-go dirty chai latte, and said, in a neutral tone, “I’m usually pretty busy at the market. I won’t be able to get away from the stall.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” 

Of course Ronan would be busy, if he was working. Adam was an idiot. 

“Maybe some other time, then,” he said.

“I’m pretty busy, in general,” Ronan’s voice was … stiff. Formal. Very unlike Ronan. 

Adam frowned in confusion. 

And then it clicked. 

Ronan was saying no.

The bottom dropped out of Adam’s stomach, as he watched Ronan walk away. 

Adam hadn’t been turned down much - only once, actually. He was too good at watching people, observing them. Looking for cues was a legacy of his abusive childhood.

So, he was sure he hadn’t imagined the chemistry between him and Ronan. He knew there was a spark between them, and he could’ve sworn Ronan felt too. 

He was rarely wrong. He _hated_ being wrong.

But - Ronan didn’t like him. 

God. He felt like shit. 

As he walked back to the table, his mind a whirl of confusion and self-recrimination, Biz signed, “Too bad, man.” and gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

He’d forgotten Biz could lip read.

“It happens,” he said, shrugging as he pretended his stomach wasn’t churning. He brought his emotion-tossed mind back to the blessed simplicity of calculus problems. 

He might as well drink some coffee, he thought. He could get ahead on his Econ paper. It would distract him, given that there was no fucking way he was sleeping tonight.

His brain was driving him crazy trying to figure out why Ronan would turn him down so categorically. He’d almost sounded … determined? 

Maybe he wasn’t interested in men? No. He was pretty sure Ronan was gay. 

Adam couldn't understand anything. 

It was bad enough that he got turned down by someone he really, really liked. But Ronan was a regular customer. And a supplier. Adam had probably made things awkward between them, at his place of work. Where he would see Ronan everyday. Unless Ronan started avoiding him.

Jesus. Could he have fucked up any worse? 

Could he _feel_ any worse?

*

Later that week, Adam found out that he could absolutely feel worse.

He was standing at the clear front windows of the café and watching Ronan haul a picnic hamper packed full of Cabeswater goodies into his boot. 

Adam was looking at the pretty main street of his town on this beautiful sunny day, he told himself. 

Just because Ronan Lynch happened to be bending over in his well-fitting jeans, did not mean Adam Parrish was checking him out. 

Ronan looked up suddenly, like someone had called his name. And sure enough Adam saw a young man with bouncing blond curls running across the street towards Ronan.

Aaand - there was that smile. 

The impossible smile, that Adam had seen once and never forgotten. 

Ronan's face was lit up as he looked at the mystery guy. He grabbed the shorter man around the waist and literally lifted him off his feet, fondly kissing the messy hair haloed by the sunlight. Ronan held the beaming, angelic face in his hands, more openly happy than Adam would've thought possible, and then they hugged each other hard. 

So, Ronan _did_ bestow that smile on people he loved. 

Adam’s chest filled with hot, bitter disappointment.

He had been stupid to think someone like Ronan would be single. 

Adam watched Ronan sling his arm around the other man and pull him close, kissing his temple. They got into the BMW, and sped off, presumably to a loved up weekend at a B&B in Vermont, or something ultra-romantic. Accompanied by a picnic basket that Adam had been carefully assembling since yesterday.

Adam turned away from the window. 

The day wasn’t that beautiful anymore. 

*

His shitbox of a third-hand car had finally given out. Adam needed a day and some parts to fix it, but right now he needed a way to get to school. He was desperately trying to get hold of a Zipcar, for which he had a student account, but the last one had been taken. Calla had already driven the Fox Way car to work. 

Adam clutched his hair as he paced outside the café, talking into his phone and getting more and more frantic. He couldn’t afford to miss this group presentation. It counted towards his grade. 

He was so preoccupied that he didn’t realise someone had come up behind him on this deaf side, until he looked down and saw another shadow besides his own. He jumped, badly startled. 

Despite being three years and hundreds of miles from the trailer he grew up in, Adam’s muscle memory was always expecting an unexpected attack. 

“What the fuck, man?" Of course, it would be Ronan, the last person Adam wanted to embarrass himself in front of.

"Sorry. You - I didn’t hear you come up." 

“Yeah. Listen, I’m on my way to Boston now, so I can drop you if you want.” Ronan had his aviators on, so Adam couldn’t read his expression. 

“What?” 

Ronan raised that supercilious eyebrow. It said: _You heard me_.

A whole car ride with Ronan Lynch. Fucking hell.

But what choice did he have? 

“I'll split the cost of the gas with you,” he blurted out. 

“I told you, I’m going anyway.” 

“I don’t want a free ride.” 

“And I don’t want your fucking money. I'm not an Uber.”

They both stood there, at an impasse.

Adam opened his mouth to argue. 

And Ronan spoke over him hurriedly. “Give me free coffees, until you think we’re square.”

Adam was silent, examining his pride. And found it was intact. 

“Okay, deal.” 

“I’m returning before rush hour hits, if you want to come back with me.”

“Yeah, okay... Thanks.”

  
  


Surprisingly, the ride wasn't bad, because unsurprisingly, Adam slept the whole way. Ronan’s driving was hypnotically smooth.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake gently. 

“Hey, Parrish. Ad … hey man, wake up.” 

He blearily opened his eyes and remembered where he was. Thankfully he hadn't drooled on the expensive leather.

“You sleep like the fucking dead, do you know that? I was practically yelling in your ear.”

Adam hadn’t heard him because his good ear had been pressed to the seat. But there was no way he was ever telling Ronan that. 

They were in front of the correct building on campus, he realised in surprise.

“How'd you know where to come?” 

“I'm psychic,” Ronan said wryly.

Adam gave him a look.

Ronan rolled his eyes and said, “I must've heard you tell the taxi rental place. And Declan, my brother, went to grad school here, so I know my way around.”

Adam realised he had been frowning at Ronan longer than was polite. But something wasn't adding up.

He was sure he hadn't given the car rental place the name of the building. Though if Ronan knew his major, and Harvard, he'd probably be able to figure it out. But how _did_ Ronan know his major? He didn't think Ronan would've known his name if it literally hadn't been pinned on his apron every morning. They hardly spoke.

“I'll be back here at 4,” Ronan said, as Adam got out of the car.

He watched as Ronan sped off with a squeal of tyres.

  
  
  


As Adam buckled in for their drive back, he realised that the nap in the car earlier had done wonders for his energy levels. He felt wide awake.

He was determined to try and get to know Ronan a bit better.

"So. Who is Chainsaw?" he asked, without preamble. 

There was no real way to ease into that question, and it had been bugging Adam for weeks.

"How do you know about Chainsaw?"

"I checked out your Instagram page." Shit. That sounded super stalkerish. 

“I was interested in what your farm looks like," Adam lied, trying to salvage some of his pride.

Ronan gave him a sideways look and said, "She's my raven"

Adam had not been expecting that answer. 

"You have a _raven_?"

"Yeah. I found her when she was injured as a baby, and nursed her back to health. She never left."

“I used to have a dog, growing up. I miss having a pet.”

“Where are you from?” 

“What makes you think I’m not from around here?” Adam asked, deflecting.

“You have an accent sometimes - sounds Southern.”

Adam wasn’t supposed to have an accent, dammit. He’d trained himself out of it years ago. Either Ronan paid more attention than Adam thought, or Adam had been slipping. 

“Yeah, I’m from Virginia.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No.”

Adam’s voice was flat - not inviting Ronan to ask any more. 

He changed the subject, trying to soften the mood, “What made you decide to start a co-op?”

"It just seemed like the smartest way to do things. No one gets screwed over too badly when things go to shit. And instead of under-bidding each other, everyone gets a share of the profits."

“Huh. I had a class that included laws regarding co-ops. They’re fascinating.”

“Yeah. No one can fuck with us. Including the government. It’s sweet.”

Adam nodded. 

Ronan said, as if the question had been queued up for him, “Do you tutor? I saw you helping that kid study.”

“I’m Biz’s Big Brother. I signed up for the program when I moved here.”

“And he’s hard of hearing?”

“Yeah. The public school system around here isn't well set up for kids who have disabilities. It helps him to be taught some things with ASL, so he doesn’t have to lip read all the time.” 

“He really lucked out, getting you.”

Adam flushed. A compliment from Ronan somehow carried more weight than from anyone else. 

“So you know sign language,” Ronan added.

“Hmm.”

“Why did you learn it?”

“I'm hard of hearing too.” 

“Oh. Can I ... ask you stuff? Are you okay to talk about it?” 

Adam had told himself, just a few hours ago, that there was no way he would ever tell Ronan about his ear. Yet here he was, about to do just that.

Maybe it was that Ronan sounded genuinely interested, rather than simply curious. Maybe it was because there was no false pity in his voice.

Maybe it was just that it was surprisingly easy to talk to Ronan.

“Yeah. I'm deaf in my left ear.” Adam said, preempting the question he got asked the most. 

“Does Harvard give you good disability support?”

“I don't need it. I can hear just fine if I'm paying attention and things are clearly said.” 

“Why did you learn ASL, if you don’t really need it?”

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

Just in case my dad finished the job, was what Adam _didn’t_ say.

He almost wanted to. 

But he had confided in Ronan enough. 

At his silence, Ronan said, “Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.” 

“You're not upsetting me,” Adam lied. 

It wasn’t the conversation that had suddenly got to Adam.

It was chatting easily with Ronan about difficult subjects. 

It was watching him touch the steering wheel with the sure familiarity of a lover, and imagining those hands on himself, and knowing it was never going to happen. 

It was sitting in his car that smelled of him ( _God_ , he smelled so _good_ ), seeing him relaxed and in his element, his starkly handsome face in profile. 

He was just inches from Ronan’s warm skin. 

All of it was reminding Adam of how long it had been since he’d been touched by somebody. Loved by somebody. Held by somebody. 

Anybody.

Adam wrapped his arms around his chest.

Ronan noticed, “You cold?”

He shook his head. 

He had gone to high school with people like Ronan.

_You think the people in that fancy bitch boy school of yours want to hang out with dirt and trash like you, boy? They can tell you ain’t worth shit, Adam._

He remembered how Ronan had made it clear that he didn’t want to hang out with Adam, in any capacity. 

Ronan was just a customer. There was no use deluding himself and getting excited, just because Ronan was making polite conversation in an enclosed space.

Suddenly it was all snowballing in his mind. 

_Great time to fall apart, Adam._

He wanted nothing more than to get away from both Ronan and his father’s hated voice. 

Thankfully, they had reached the café. Adam was unbuckled and out the door almost before the car had stopped. 

He managed to turn around and say, “Thanks for the ride.” He knew he sounded ungracious. 

Ronan just looked at him, frowning a little. He almost looked … concerned.

Great. Just fucking perfect. If Ronan hadn’t pitied him before, he probably did now.

Adam slammed the car door shut. He missed putting the key in the lock of his front door several times, because his hands were trembling. He ran up the stairs and curled up on his bed, shoes and all, not sure if he was happy or sad that Blue wasn’t there. 

He heard Ronan drive off much, much later. 

So much for becoming friends. 

At least he’d have no problems getting Ronan to avoid him now. 

It was probably for the best. He didn't think being around him was good for his peace of mind.

_What do you want Adam?_

_I want Ronan Lynch._

_Well, you can't have him._

  
  


“Your favourite customer forgot this at lunch today,” Blue told him when he got home after closing up.

“I have no idea who you mean,” Adam said, irritated. He did not want to talk about Ronan.

He hadn’t told Blue what had happened, but she knew him well enough to see that something was wrong. She also knew not to push. 

She just gave him a look and threw him a hard-bound, well-used book. Adam looked down at it in surprise. 

It was _The Aeneid_ , in the original Latin. No translation or notes. It seemed like it was just a regular storybook. Did Ronan Lynch read the classics in a dead language for _fun_? 

Latin was one of Adam’s strengths. He thought of returning this to Ronan and maybe talking to him about it. Then his chest hurt as he remembered that he’d decided to stay away from him. 

A thought struck Adam.

“It couldn't have been at lunchtime today. He was in Boston.”

“Nuh-huh. He had a pizza and bought another to go. I remember.”

Adam believed her.

Why had Ronan gone all the way to Boston just to come back here? And then returned. It couldn't've been just to pick Adam up. 

Adam sighed and shook his head. Something must have come up at work. Anything else was just wishful thinking. 

Ronan obviously really loved his gorgeous boyfriend with the golden curls. 

The sooner Adam got over him, the better.

*

After a night of not sleeping, Adam was fuzzy headed as he turned the sign from Closed to Open at ass o’clock in the morning. He wondered if Ronan would come in as usual and if it would be awkward. 

He did and it was. 

There was also a couple who were going on a hike, so thankfully it wasn’t just Ronan and him like it usually was at that time. 

As he handed Ronan his yoghurt pot, their fingers brushed. The most fleeting of touches. Just like with dozens of customers everyday. It usually didn’t even register with Adam. 

But now, every single one of Adam’s nerve endings felt Ronan’s skin slide along his, in infinite slow motion. 

Their eyes met and Adam looked away, pointedly.

He clenched his jaw and tried his damndest to focus on the job he was being paid to do, as the couple came to the till to place their order.

Adam went out back as soon as Noah came in. He bent over, leaning against the wall and linking his fingers behind his neck. He breathed deeply several times and gave himself a stern talking to. 

_Snap out of it, Parrish._

Even at his touch-starved worst, he hadn’t been this bad.

He didn’t know how to turn off Ronan turning him on.

He didn’t know how to stop craving the version of his life where Ronan Lynch was his boyfriend. 

Adam was so tired of wanting things he couldn’t have. 

*

For a change, Adam was working at the café over lunch, covering for Noah. 

He heard a loud yell and a string of furious curses from outside. Ronan was the only customer sitting at the café’s tables on the sidewalk, so it must be him. 

Adam saw two kids on roller skates fleeing the scene as he ran outside. Ronan’s back was soaked with the hot tea Adam had just made for him, when the kids had presumably collided with him.

“Motherfuckers,” Ronan cursed, unsticking the wet material from his body. Adam winced. He must be in pain. 

Ronan would need to take his shirt off for Adam to treat the burn. And the sidewalk or the café weren’t the best places to do that. 

“Come upstairs,” he told Ronan. “I have a first aid kit.” 

“Sit.” Adam pulled out a chair at the dining table, and opened the first aid box.

Ronan sat down with a huff, “No need to make such a big fucking deal about it, Parrish. I’ve had worse.”

“Maybe I just don't want you to sue us, Lynch.”

At the look Ronan levelled at him, Adam gave up on joking, “You should … take your shirt off. So I can treat the burn.”

Adam held his breath, as Ronan crossed his arms, biceps bulging, and lifted the hem of his muscle tee. He saw, as if in slow motion, Ronan peeling the soaked top off his torso, revealing hard abs and pale smooth skin. Ronan turned slightly, showing Adam the snarl of ink across his broad back.

The tattoo. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Adam had forgotten about it.

Adam already felt like a wave of lust had crashed over him, soaking him to the bone, on seeing the bare mass of muscle and maleness that was Ronan Lynch. 

But being confronted with the entirety of that tattoo, that had starred in his wet dreams and waking fantasies for months now, was like a physical blow. 

His lungs emptied of breath.

He filled them again, slowly.

He had a job to do. He was providing first aid to a customer who had been hurt on his watch. 

_Pull yourself together man, for fuck’s sake._

Ronan’s pale skin looked angry in the gaps left by the vines and thorns and feathers that decorated his left shoulder. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like a bad burn. 

Adam reached out and placed his fingers very gently on the black and red skin. 

Ronan twitched away from his touch, sucking in a harsh breath.

Adam breathed out. “Sorry. It's - uh - hot. I should cool it down before putting any ointment on it.” 

He wrapped a packet of frozen peas in a clean, soft cloth. When he turned around, he had a moment of disorientation. 

There was Ronan Lynch, shirtless and magnificent, looking for all the world like some exotic wild animal that had wandered into his ordinary living room by mistake. 

It was - surreal. 

He told the back of Ronan’s head, “I’m putting a cool compress on it. Let me know if it’s uncomfortable or … something.” 

He automatically reached out to hold Ronan steady, and then paused - his hand a breath away from Ronan’s skin. It just seemed - wrong. Unethical, somehow, that he was getting to touch Ronan under the pretext of providing medical care. 

His hesitation caught Ronan’s eye as he turned to look over his shoulder, presumably at what was taking Adam so long. 

“For fuck’s sake. Give me the motherfucking thing, if you can't do it. Or don't want to do it.”

“What?” Adam’s brain couldn’t process the meaning behind what Ronan had just said. 

“We’re only here because you insisted. So just put the burn balm shit on me and I’ll be on my fucking way,” Ronan snarled. 

“What’re you talking about?” Adam finally managed to say.

“I don't have all day, Parrish. You’ve wasted enough of it.”

“Seriously, Lynch, what the fuck is your goddamned problem with me?” Adam moved to stand in front of Ronan, trying to get him to look at Adam, so he could read his face. 

“My problem with _you_?” Ronan scoffed, “You’re the one who has a problem with me. I’m not gonna jump you the moment you touch me, you know.” 

“ _You’re_ not gonna jump _me_?” Adam felt very slow. It was not a feeling he was used to. 

“Isn’t that what all straight guys think?” Ronan’s face was red with emotion.

Adam sat down.

“You think I’m straight?" he said, slowly, "And didn’t want to touch you because I’m - what? - homophobic?” 

He couldn’t believe that was the conclusion that Ronan had come to. That that was what Ronan thought of him. 

“I’m not straight,” he said, looking at Ronan, though Ronan was looking away. 

“You live here with your girlfriend.” 

“Blue is not my girlfriend.”

“I saw the photo of you both kissing. She said she loved you. Her caller id…” Ronan’s voice was bitter.

“We did date, for a really short while, but it didn’t take. Noah had messed with my phone as a joke. She's my best friend. We’re roommates, that's all. ”

Adam added, “And I’m bi.”

Ronan was breathing hard, with spots of high colour on his pale skin.

“Getting every single thing wrong about me is a real feat. Even for you, Lynch.”

At that, Ronan looked at him. His gaze direct and open and _hungry_. 

Hungry for _Adam_.

“You have a - a boyfriend,” Adam stammered out.

“The fuck? No I don't.” Ronan looked stunned. On anyone else, it would’ve been comical. 

“That guy with the blond curls you ordered a picnic basket for?”

“My younger brother, Matthew?”

His _younger brother_? 

“He looks nothing like you,” Adam said defensively, after a few shocked seconds of silence, “I asked you out and you turned me down. Completely.”

“I didn’t think you were asking me out. And I didn’t want to hang out with you. I didn’t want to be your fucking _friend,_ ” Ronan spat out the word like it was a curse.

“I thought you hated me,” Adam said, with wonder.

Ronan scoffed. Then he said, bitterly, “I do - I did - hate you.” 

Adam felt like the words were stroking his skin, where earlier they would've sliced him open. He could hear _under_ Ronan’s tone now. 

Ronan’s words spilled out in a torrent, like he’d been holding them in for too long. It was more than Adam had ever heard him speak. “I hate your hot accent, and your fucking upcycled denim apron that brings out your eyes, and the freckles on your hands when you give me my coffee. But most of all, I hated your stupid girlfr-”

Adam leaned forward and kissed Ronan full on the mouth.

For a suspended second, he was looking into Ronan’s eyes, too close and too out of focus and too surprised. Their lips were pressed hard against each other; the shock of skin touching skin was like jumping into a freezing lake.

Then time began to move again, and he felt the flutter of long lashes that brushed his own as they closed. Ronan turned his head, parted his lips and kissed Adam back immediately. 

Devastatingly.

And Adam was falling, falling. Falling into Ronan Lynch’s inviting mouth, his wicked tongue curling around Adam’s. 

His hands wrapped around Ronan’s head and pulled him closer, welding them together at the lips.

Yes, yes, _yes_. _God_. This is what he wanted. Had needed. Since the first moment he’d seen Ronan - had watched his moulded Celtic mouth shaping itself around obscenities.

And unbelievably, impossibly, it seemed that Ronan wanted him too.

A hand came up and clutched Adam’s hair, loosing a primal groan from deep within him. Ronan took advantage of that gasp to press deeper, licking into Adam in a way that hinted at unspeakable things. 

Lust flooded Adam’s stomach and spilled over the sides, hot and shimmery and overwhelming. 

He scratched nails down the beautiful buzzed head, like he'd wanted to for months. Ronan made a dark, greedy sound that went straight to Adam’s groin, knowing it was for him. Because of him.

And Adam was utterly undone. 

The next thing he knew, he had slid onto Ronan’s lap, straddling him. They both breathed out in relief, no more distance between them. Ronan buried both his hands in Adam’s hair and _pulled,_ as he sucked on Adam’s tongue.

Adam felt like he was going to die of pleasure. He had known kissing Ronan would be mind-blowing. But he'd never expected a kiss that was almost as exciting as sex. 

He couldn't imagine how good the sex was going to be.

Adam bit Ronan’s lip and pulled, ungentle and purposeful.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Ronan gritted out, and bucked his hips up, involuntarily. Adam let out an animal noise at the contact.

It was the best fucking thing he had ever felt. 

Adam looked down at Ronan’s darkened eyes and kissed mouth and flushed cheekbones. 

He was the best fucking thing Adam had ever seen. 

Adam felt so, so alive. Sunlight ran in his veins. All the coffee he had made and consumed, and it turned out that the secret to being awake was kissing Ronan Lynch. 

To think Adam could've had this _months_ ago. He was going to _kill_ Noah.

One of Ronan’s hands teased the gap between his jeans and the small of his back, making Adam shiver. The other slid under his soft white tee. 

And then finally, finally, Ronan’s hands were properly on his skin. They moved up his ribs, trailing fire, sure and rough and perfect. 

Adam smoothed his hands in pure appreciation over big shoulders and a hard chest, learning the contours of a body that he had fantasised about for months.

Then Ronan’s thumbs brushed his nipples, and Adam whimpered into Ronan's mouth.

If he’d thought he’d die of pleasure before, _this_ was what would kill him.

“You like that, huh?” Ronan grinned against his neck, breathless and triumphant. 

And he rolled both of Adam’s nipples between his fingers, and breathed ‘Adam’ right into his good ear. Like it was some holy word. 

Adam stopped thinking.

He dug his fingernails into built shoulders and arched, pushing his chest harder into Ronan’s hands. 

And Ronan shouted out. 

A very different shout than what Adam had been expecting. 

It took his arousal-drenched brain a second to process why.

Oh God. Ronan’s shoulder. Shit. _Fuck_. Adam had dug his nails right into the burned skin. He was a _horrible person_. 

He sprang up and stumbled away from Ronan. 

They stared at each other, shocked and speechless, panting like they’d run to get here. Energy still crackled across the space between them, not diminished by distance.

Adam was surprised to find that they were in his living room and that music was playing faintly from outside and the sun was setting and the smell of baking pie was thick in the air. 

The world still existed, just like it had five minutes ago. 

He had lost himself inside Ronan’s mouth. The only thing he’d been aware of was the feel of Ronan’s skin.

Skin. 

_Burns_. 

Shit. _Shit._ Adam _was_ a horrible person. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” he said, getting back to the first aid kit. “I didn’t mean to hurt you - again.”

“Chill the fuck out, Parrish. I'll live,” Ronan straddled the chair. And this time, Adam touched him without thinking about it. He covered the burn with salve and placed gauze gently over it. When he was done, he kissed the nape of Ronan’s neck and heard his breath catch.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lips moving against the inked skin, thrilled at how Ronan shivered.

Ronan turned around and snorted, “Loser.”

“We’re both losers,” Adam said, shaking his head.

“I’m just a farmer. But you have no excuse, Harvard boy.”

Adam snorted, “Imagine thinking I was straight.” 

Ronan shot back, “Imagine thinking I didn’t like you.”

“Too bad it took some hot tea falling on you to knock some sense into us.”

Ronan winced, rolling his shoulder. Then after a beat he said, “You should convince me not to sue your sorry ass.” 

Adam looked up from repacking the first aid kit and saw the glint in Ronan’s eye.

"How?" Adam grinned. 

They were both so dumb - and happy. 

It was stupid. 

It was _wonderful_. 

Ronan walked towards him, menacing and mind-blowingly hot. Adam instinctively walked backwards, breathing hard as he hit the front door.

Ronan didn't stop until he was maddeningly pressed up all the way against Adam.

He nosed the back of Adam’s good ear.

"You could have dinner with me," he said, in a low, sultry voice. The voice that Adam had wanted to hear in his ear all those months ago. 

"Yes," Adam shivered.

Ronan ran his teeth gently along his throat.

"I want to cook for you."

"Yes. _God_. Yes," Adam groaned. 

_Cook_? No one had ever cooked for Adam Parrish. 

Ronan Lynch was going to be the fucking death of him.

"I want to show you The Barns," Ronan said, against the corner of his mouth.

Adam pulled back at that, and looked into crystal clear eyes. He understood what Ronan was asking.

He traced light knuckles down Ronan’s cheek and watched his eyelids flutter shut. 

"Yes. Ronan," he said the word deliberately, and felt Ronan draw in a sharp breath, “Yes to all of it.”

Ronan opened his eyes then and gave Adam that unbelievably sweet smile. 

This was the smile Adam had seen months ago. And had thought would never be directed at him.

He leaned forward and captured that smile with his own. 

They both knew Adam was saying yes to more than just dinner.

*

**Author's Note:**

> I'm low key considering writing this from Ronan’s POV. Let's see. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought. Anon and non-English comments welcome.
> 
> I made some edits on [Tumblr](https://creativefiend19.tumblr.com/post/635052419810721792/check-out-my-fluffy-and-angsty-pynch-coffee-shop), if you’re curious about Adam’s and Ronan’s IG profiles (Ronan added the bits about the Barns to his after Adam convinces him to).


End file.
